by John Oakes
“It’s our fault,” Ferguson said, sounding angry only with himself. “We weren’t there enough for you. You hear me?” His voice shook with emotion. “It’s our fault. So, you let us fix it. You come in right now and let us protect you.”
“Dead?” Jake whispered. “Dead. No. There is no dead.” Jake sniffed. “No,” he said louder, more sure of himself. “She was unhappy in Texas. She wanted to move back home. I worked too much. She was lonely.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Ferguson said over the speaker.
“And as soon as I get a real job with the Bureau,” Jake said, “after we tie up this David Young murder, then we can all be back together.”
“Jake, this is Melinda. You know I can’t hire you on if you won’t obey orders, right? Well, your orders right now are to let Jerry pick you up. If you’re right about Sarah Paulsen, it’s all gonna come out when the Iowa cops arrest her. Show me you can follow orders, Jake.”
Jake wanted to please Melinda, but something deeper and hungrier in him wanted to make the arrest, wanted to not hear any more of their words. He gritted his teeth and cursed aloud. “Hell, maybe they can all just go fuck themselves.” Jake pounded his phone into the dash until it cracked open. He tore it apart in a rage. “Not gonna call me up with this shit again.” Jake threw the pieces out the window and huffed ragged breaths, wiping tears from his eyes. “Maybe I am an outlaw, now. Maybe this is fate.”
“Yo, what the fuck, man?” Kenny rocked back and forth in his seat, eyes barely touching on the road ahead. “Who the fuck were you talking to?”
“Old cop buddies.” Jake shook his head.
“What was all that about Lala?”
“How is she gonna stop the truck?” Jake asked, suddenly feeling alert and energized.
“I dunno. Tell me what you meant about Lala!”
Jake waved a hand. “She was running a scam, using David Young and a couple of his buddies. A bunch of nerds under her spell. Maybe she liked David, maybe she just gave him a little encouragement to keep the money coming in.”
“You’re a fucking liar! How would you know? I don’t even know you!”
“You’re in the driver’s seat, hoss.” Jake leaned back. “I’m just along for the ride. Ahead into chaos.” Jake mimicked an explosion with his hands, billowing out his cheeks.
“Yo, what the fuck, man. You’re crazy. What the fuck is going on?”
Jake rolled the window down again and let the cold air whip around him. He lowered the brim of his hat to protect his eyes, but otherwise let the wind steal his body’s excess heat away.
“It’s slowing down,” Kenny said. “The truck is slowing fast.”
Jake heard an air break engage and giant tires squeal. Between them and the truck, Lala AKA Sarah Paulsen’s car braked to a near stop, red lights flashing in the rear.
TWENTY-FOUR
Minnesota Stand-Off
Both Jake and Kenny took a moment away from their personal crises to crane their necks and see what had stopped the truck.
“What is it?” Jake asked. “I can’t see.”
“I can’t see either.”
“You mean you don’t know?” Jake asked, incredulous. “Isn’t this all part of the plan?”
Sarah Paulsen, AKA Lala, got out of her car holding a small pistol and chambered a round before walking up the driver’s side of the truck.
Kenny turned the truck off and got out muttering curses Jake couldn’t understand and followed after her.
Jake looked all about. A lone pickup truck passed by in the opposite direction, but there didn’t seem to be any other cars on the rural road that early in the day.
Jake stepped out of Kenny’s pickup and took a few steps to Sarah’s vehicle, or Lala’s. He peered inside and saw a purse. He knelt, feeling the cold road on one knee and pulled her Driver’s license out. It read “PAULSEN, Sarah Josephine.” So that confirmed her legal name, even if the name Lala had real significance.
Jake shut her door and let his ears roam for sounds and clues as to what was happening, as he walked the length of the semi truck up the passenger side. Snowflakes billowed up from the ground like a dust devil, obscuring his view. When the momentary disturbance settled, a blue RAV-4 came into view, parked crossways to the road, blocking the truck. The figure of a man came into view much closer.
Jake stopped, and edged closer to the trailer.
The man stood on the passenger ledge pointing a gun through the window. He had bushy curls from what Jake could see, a rust-colored mustache and wore a faded Vikings jacket.
“You people,” Jake muttered.
He didn’t understand how, but the scruffy twins he’d encountered at David Young’s house—who should have been in custody still—had come to aid Sarah Paulsen. Jake peered around Randy, who was so focused on the driver he didn’t notice him. Sure enough, Rudy was standing in front of the semi with his own pistol drawn, wearing his green army surplus coat and his rust-colored chin beard. His eyes were taken with the argument brewing between Sarah and Kenny on the driver’s side of the truck.
“What are they doing here, Lala?” Kenny asked over the noise of the engine.
“We needed help,” Sarah spat. “We’re desperate. Not like your friends were any use.”
“Oh, so these gadjo are your friends? Do you have other gadjo friends?”
“You know I do. Don’t be stupid. We don’t have time for your whining.”
“Well, let me whine about this. Did you kill David Young because he put that bastard in you?”
Jake couldn’t see Kenny and Sarah, but Rudy looked suddenly alarmed and raised his pistol, as if Kenny had drawn a weapon.
“I just need to know,” Kenny shouted.
“Not now, Kennick. Not now.”
Randy leaped from the passenger steps, clumsily landing on his hands and knees. “Say what?” He scrambled up and around the front of the truck with Rudy following too.
Jake crept up and peered around the engine grill.
Randy and pointed his gun. “Sarah? He’s saying you killed David?”
Rudy, the seeming smart one of the pair, shifted from side-to-side. “Shit, you didn’t do that, did you?”
“So the baby is David’s.” Kenny said.
“Well, yeah,” Randy chimed in. “So he thought.”
“Shush, Randy,” Rudy said in a perilous tone.
“Hey you.” Kenny pointed his gun at Randy. “Take your gun off her.”
“She killed my friend, man.”
“To keep me from doing it. I think.” Kenny screwed a palm into his eye, then flooded with anger again. “Just get your fucking gun off her!”
Randy pointed his gun at Kenny, instead. “You happy, now?”
“Now, I’ve seen Mexican stand-offs before.” Jake walked up boldly, hands splayed to his sides. “But this is my first Minnesota stand-off.”
Silence as the four criminals took in Jake’s arrival, then, “What’s a Minnesota stand-off?” Randy asked.
“Apparently it’s one and three quarter gypsies, a couple of idiot twins and a stolen semi truck.” Jake tipped his hat to the pregnant woman holding the gun. “Sarah Paulsen, ma’am, pleasure to finally make your full acquaintance.”
She took only half a second to assess him. “You’re the metal cutter?”
“Sort of,” Kenny said, lowering his weapon. “He used to be a cop, but he’s not anymore. Steve hired him to stop us, but I think he smelled more money to be made.”
“Wait, this is the guy who arrested us.” Rudy turned and gave Jake a good look. “He’s with the state cops.”
“I don’t work for anybody,” Jake said, then pointed at Rudy. “I was only trying to help figure out who killed your friend. That’s how I came to meet Russell Young and eventually Steve Frazzi.”
Rudy gazed over at Sarah. “You killed David? Jesus.” His words were soft and full of hurt.
“Listen,” Sarah said. “What’s done is done. We can discuss this later.
Right now we need to get the truck moving.” She waved with her pistol. “Kennick, you know where we’re going. Get in the truck.”
He kept his pistol lowered, but gave her a malevolent look.
“Do you want to stand here giving me the evil eye or do you want to earn?” Sarah spat.
Kenny stepped around the truck and climbed up the passenger side. “What about you?” Kenny looked down at Jake. “Are you coming or not?”
“I’m just a hayseed in a hail storm.” Jake held his arms out, feeling sadness out of nowhere pulling at every inch of his face like some morose gravity.
“I think you’re crazy. Probably for the best.” Kenny tossed the keys to his pickup well over Jake’s head where Rudy caught them. “Follow close.”
Jake backed to the shoulder of the road, where the breeze kicked up the collar of his coat. Before Sarah got back into her car she gave him a studious look, and they both knew what she was thinking. Should she kill him? The RAV-4 and the semi truck pulled away, and the moment passed. She got in and drove off with Rudy following in Kenny’s truck.
Jake managed a small wave as they passed by off in to the distance.
The day grew a little brighter, but with each passing minute, Jake’s restlessness grew, too. He was glad the criminal convoy was gone, taking with it any temptation to impulsively join in. No matter how stupid it sounded, he had been tempted. He loved being a cop, and he wanted to go back to how life was before, but it seemed that no matter how hard he tried, no one would let him. He felt like a caged animal, and those closest to him were the ones poking him with sharp sticks.
The inward pressure to lash out was still mounting.
He kicked rocks by the side of the road. “Fucking Ferguson. Fucking Townie.” He kicked one rock clean across the highway, then made a slow turn, taking his hat off and running his hand over his hair. “Fucking Minnesota, or Iowa, or wherever I am.” Jake plopped his hat back on at an angle and extended his middle fingers to the horizon in every direction.
A wave of overwhelming sadness hit him in that moment.
Jake looked around at the dawning day and saw no one, no sign of life. He was alone, so profoundly alone it was like ripping away the skin and muscles and bones that covered his heart.
He wept at the loneliness. He sobbed as loud as he could, daring the tall grass and the stones to hear him, daring the migrating birds, the burrowing insects and any human passerby to be ashamed for him.
Jake noticed, after losing himself to the sadness for a long while, that he was on his knees. He wasn’t sobbing so much as screaming and bellowing at the top of his lungs, so loud he couldn’t think a thought or feel an emotion. He let his caterwauling die down. The urge came again to scream, but he couldn’t muster the energy. The urge to sob came, but he couldn’t anymore or he’d throw up.
Jake fell to his side on the shoulder of the road and lay upon pebbles, broken bits of asphalt and the encroaching grass.
TWENTY-FIVE
Country Roads
Jake still lay on his back when a blue sedan creaked to a stop feet from his head. He heard the steady click-clack of hazard lights come on and a door open without closing. Soft footsteps on the road.
“You hurt?” Jerry’s face was upside down over Jake’s, lit by the glowing morning sun like a celestial being.
“No, I’m don’t reckon I am.”
“The ground looks cold. Would you rather sit in the car?”
“I suppose,” Jake croaked.
“Thing is, Jake, things being how they are, I have to take your weapon.”
Jake flipped his coat open, revealing the revolver in its holster. “Just… Jerry? Don’t you say it.” Jake felt fresh hot tears roll down the sides of his cold face.
Jerry knelt next to Jake.
“Just don’t…” Jake choked on the words. “Don’t say it.”
Jerry slipped Jake’s .45 from its holster, then offered out his other hand. “Up with you now.”
Jake felt the world spin around him as he got to his feet. Jerry bent again and picked up his hat, dusting it off for him.
“Thank you kindly.” Jake slumped into the passenger seat, as if someone had pulled his stopper out and he’d deflated.
Jerry got in and rubbed his hands together. “I’d say hot coffee and some breakfast is in order, but first thing, I need to make sure local authorities have this truck taken care of.” Jerry stepped on the gas and brought their speed up to seventy-five, then eighty, then eighty-five miles per hour.
“Didn’t catch how many cars they had with them, did ya?”
“Three. A blue RAV-4, a red pontiac, a dark pickup truck.” Jake’s voice was unnaturally hoarse from his outburst by the road.
“A blue RAV-4 you say?”
“Yeah.”
“Get a plate?”
“No. The visibility…”
Jerry picked up his phone and called in to the Bureau. “Yes, I picked him up. Thing is he says there was a blue RAV-4 with ‘em. I know it’s a long shot but where is Agent Nelson? Yes, I’ll hold.”
“Nelson drove a similar vehicle?” Jake perked up. “Them two twins he was looking after were there. You don’t think…”
Jerry leaned away and spoke low into the phone. “No where? Ah, jeez, Melinda, I think I may know where he got to. I’ll report back.”
Jerry waggled his chin. “Oh, this is bad. I got a bad feeling where Nelson is—trussed up in that RAV-4.”
Jerry pushed the sedan to ninety miles an hour, and the tires began to shimmy on the road. Jerry immediately backed off the gas pedal and the cruiser stabilized.
“I see ‘em,” Jake said. “They’re pulling off.”
Jerry bared his teeth and squinted up ahead to make out the silhouette of the caravan heading off the highway for the cover of a large stand of trees. He coasted then braked into his turn on the dirt road, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Jerry hit the accelerator to make chase, then thought better of it and hung back.
They cruised at least a hundred yards behind and followed the convoy through twisting roads, up an unexpected rise and down the other side into a heavily wooded expanse. They only caught the briefest glimpse of the RAV-4 before it turned a corner and disappeared.
“This is some country,” Jerry said. “This forest out of nowhere.”
“It’s more like home.” Jake’s voice sounded odd, as if someone else were speaking. He cleared his throat. “Minus the snow.”
Jerry called in his location to the local dispatcher who promised a cruiser was on its way.
“Can it really take so long to get a car out here?” Jake asked.
“Never know in rural areas. Could be far away from the base. Could be budget cuts,” Jerry said. “Maybe there isn’t usually a great deal of crime in these parts.”
Jerry got a call back from dispatch a minute later. Jake heard the whole exchange, but Jerry insisted on relaying the information anyhow. “Okay. An Officer Neff should be on our six in no time. But I’m afraid I gotta follow on and keep an eye on their twenty.”
The trees opened up, and the road continued into a rounded clearing about a half mile in diameter. The sun shined bright enough through grey clouds to make out the blue RAV-4 parked back in the trees off to the left, along with the semi truck trailer and the two other cars near a huddle of drab buildings.
Without pausing, Jerry continued along the road, out into the clearing, up and down the gently rolling terrain. Jake looked over his shoulder, never fully losing sight of the secluded compound the convoy had pulled into. Once out of the clearing, Jerry turned the car around and called dispatch to inform them he’d located the semi truck and the perpetrators’ vehicles. “And tell any officers not to drive past the parked vehicles into the clearing. They’ll be exposed out in the open. Stay hidden back on the road.”
“What’s the play, here?” Jake asked. “We gonna pull up closer?”
“I think we,” Jerry said, “are gonna wait for the locals to come take c
are of it.”
“Come on,” Jake said low.
“Word is your state of mind is questionable.” Jerry kept his eyes locked on the horizon. “But word is also that you were a real cop like you said. So, tell me you know basic procedure.” Jerry set his jaw, still not looking at Jake.
“Oh, I get it.” Jake drew fingers down around his stubbly mouth and chin. “Maybe it’s just me, but there’s a mess of bad guys up there and maybe two innocent people, including Nelson. If we’re the good guys, what kinda good are we doing here?”
“I’m supposed to take you straight back to the Cities.”
“Then why you still parked here eyeballing the enemy?”
Jerry didn’t respond. Then he leaned forward. “Is that…”
Jake peered across the undulating clearing. “Looks like state patrol. Must be Officer Neff.”
“What’s he doing?” Jerry complained.
The cruiser pulled right into the long driveway behind the convoy and parked. Then he chirped his siren as if clearing his throat before a big announcement. “This is Iowa State Patrol.” The officer’s commands echoed clearly across the open space to where Jerry and Jake sat. “Everyone come into the drive way with your hands up. Do not make any sudden movements.”
Jake opened the glove box and removed Jerry’s binoculars, training them on the patrol vehicle, then scanning up the driveway.
Kenny and one of the twins, Randy by the color of his jacket, slinked around the passenger side of the truck, then flung the rear doors open as fast as they could and retrieved two long boxes.
“Stop! Get down on your knees!” Officer Neff jumped out of the car, but by then, the two thieves were out of sight, sprinting into a large garage at the end of the drive.
“What just happened, there?” Jerry asked.
“They just exposed themselves to get something out of that truck.” Jake leaned forward. “Christ, I think I know what—”